


Dissident

by TheStageManager



Series: Simulacrum [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Is Great, Ahsoka Tano Is the Best Little Sister, CC-1010 | Fox Needs A Hug, Force-Sensitive CC-1010 | Fox, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25271419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStageManager/pseuds/TheStageManager
Summary: Does Fox struggle with crippling self-loathing? Yes, absolutely. Is that going to stop Ahsoka Tano from aggressively befriending him? No, absolutely not.----Set in an AU where Rex and Cody are still cadets during the Clone Wars.I recommend reading "Simulacrum" first, but should you choose not to: you do you. Live your best life.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Ahsoka Tano, CC-1010 | Fox & CC-6454 | Ponds, CC-6454 | Ponds &; Ahsoka Tano
Series: Simulacrum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822810
Comments: 47
Kudos: 239
Collections: TexWash's Must Reads and Rereads





	Dissident

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of Ranking, Ahsoka is a Commander and Fox is a Lieutenant-Commander, so Ahsoka still outranks Fox, but Fox doesn't have to be demoted to captain. 
> 
> Does a Commander outrank a Liuetenant-Commander in real life? I have no idea. But that's how it works in Star Trek, so that's good enough for me.
> 
> Also note: Because Rex and Cody are still cadets, Ponds is the Commander of the 212th and Fox is the Lieutenant-Commander of the 501st.

Ahsoka did _not_ like Lieutenant-Commander Fox. He was so uptight that if somebody were to shove a lump of coal up his ass, it would pop out a diamond in only a matter of hours. He was crazy about the regs, and one of the most nit picky people Ahsoka had ever met. He snapped at the poor shinies for every little thing, he yelled at Hardcase and Jesse for contraband, he wrote up anybody for every little mistake... Ahsoka really wasn’t a fan.

Skyguy liked him—liked to tease him mostly, but Ahsoka simply couldn’t stand him. He made her furious. He was cruel and calloused and it pissed her off to the nth degree.

Besides, there was something about him that seemed almost inhuman. He was a private person, and she could understand that, Master Obi-Wan was private too. But Fox was private in a whole different way. Whereas all the troops called each other _vode_ and spent the nights huddled together, piled on top of each other, Fox was always alone. He kept to himself, flinched away from touch, and never, ever took off his helmet. Ahsoka had no idea what he looked like under there.

Well... then again, he was a _clone_ so she did have some idea what he might look like beneath the helmet.

Which is why it came as such a surprise when he came sprinting into the Conference Room—sans bucket—huffing and puffing like some kind of godforsaken cross between an overheated jaguar, a winded goose, and a grumpy hedgehog.

The lack of bucket had Ahsoka feeling like she’d been bowled over by a line of cement trucks falling from the sky. He looked... well, he looked like every other clone (duh) but he had this big burn scar covering up half of his face and _that_ caught her off guard. It wrapped around one of his eyes, lumpy and raised and, though he didn’t appear to have lost the eye, she wondered how well he could actually see out of it.

She made a mental note to ask him about it, then backtracked—as if Fox would ever tell her anything about his personal life. Then again, he was a clone. Did he have a personal life? That thought made her sadder than it should’ve.

“Fox, what’s wrong?” Skywalker asked, looking relatively unperturbed which was a red flag in an of itself—look at Lieutenant-Commander Fox’s behavior! Clearly something was horribly, horribly wrong with him (Geonosian brain worm perhaps?) why in all nine Sith hells wasn’t her master _losing his shit?_

Ponds dashed in not long after that, practically tripping over his own feet in a desperate attempt to reach his brother before the elder of the two was able to say anything stupid, or angry, or stupid _and_ angry.

If Ahsoka hadn’t been so utterly stunned with shock, she would’ve said something to Ponds—either, “Ponds! It’s good to see you!” because she very much liked Ponds (#1 Ponds trash, best _ori’vod_ ever except maybe for Jesse or Echo or Kix, when he wasn’t trying to stab her with a vitamin booster) or, alternatively, “Ponds what the _fuck_?!” because, seriously, what the actual fuck was going on?

“Are Kenobi’s padawans clones?” Fox demanded and he looked so dizzy that Ahsoka actually reached out, ready to steady him.

“...Yes, Commander they are,” Anakin said hesitantly, no doubt wondering where Fox was going.

For a moment, Ahsoka watch in horror as Fox spun around is a sloppy about-face, swaying violently. He looked like he was going to be sick—as if he was debating whether or not he should bolt to the ‘fresher. Then, he turned back around and gave them both a salute that was about as crisp as a vanilla wafer at the bottom of a glass of milk.

“Fox...” Ponds said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

What was happening? Was he drunk?

“Are you drunk, Lieutenant-Commander?” Ahsoka blurted out and found herself cringing at the accusation in her tone. She hardly ever used his full title—she must’ve sounded extra pissed. But that wasn’t it at all! She was just confused.

“No.” Fox snapped vehemently, glaring at her and paling several shades.

“Fox…” Ponds whispered sharply, jabbing him in the elbow.

Okay. Definitely drunk. That explained at least part of it.

“General. Commander,” Fox said, standing at attention. Then he turned in his heel and made to leave.

“Fox!” Ponds hissed and Ahsoka could’ve sworn she saw her oh-so-stoic Lieutenant-Commander cringe?

“Fox, what the hell is going on?” Anakin demanded, crossing his arms.

Fox’s anxiety was sharp in the Force, and it left Ahsoka feeling like she had whiplash. What in the hell did he have to be anxious for? Fox was never anxious! Uptight and surly as all hell, sure... but never anxious.

“Is it true, sirs, that you... weren’t aware that clones on Kamino got decommission for Force-Sensitivity?” he asked slowly.

And, while Ahsoka had no idea what he was talking about, apparently Anakin did. There was that rage again, bubbling in the background of the Force. But he schooled his expression into a cool, almost regretful look of sympathy. “I did not, Commander. Not until this morning. Please rest assured that we will _not_ allow that practice to continue,” he spat out, the fury and passion in his voice rumbling and rolling like a kettle of boiling water, threatening he to spill over.

“It wasn’t the Jedi who made the request?” Fox asked apprehensively, unsure, almost disbelieving.

“No! Force, Fox, of course not! Life is sacred! All life! The idea that people should be terminated for _genetic mutations_ …” Anakin shook his head, clenching his fists at his side. “The idea that somebody should _die_ because they were born with blue eyes instead of brown—we would’ve trained you! We’re going to train you! Nobody should have to die because-“ Anakin cut himself off, twisting away and slamming a fist down onto the conference table behind him.

Ahsoka, spooked, took a stunned step backwards. _Decomissioned?_ What the hell was that? He made it sound like… no. Surely, that couldn’t be right. Ahsoka had always wondered if some clones (like Rex) could be born with blonde or red hair, or different color eyes. She’d seen a couple of them, but they were rare. Why was that? Because the Kaminoans had perfected the art of cloning? Or because they put people to death if they were too different?

“The Jedi would _never_ do something like that,” Anakin snarled. “The Kaminoans made that choice and we _will_ make them pay,”

“Master-!” Ahsoka said sharply, snapping him out of his reverie. Her Master had always struggled with attachment and passion. This, whatever it was, seemed to be a particularly sore subject.

Anakin straightened up, taking the message, and forced his rage back into hiding behind a simmering façade.

“No, Fox. We did not order the decommissioning of all Force-sensitive clones,” Anakin clarified, his voice harder and colder than the long nights on Hoth.

Apparently, that was the only thing Fox needed to hear, because after that, he and Ponds were gone like ships in the night.

“What the hell was that about?” Ahsoka demanded after the door slid shut. It was utterly, entirely surreal. She’d never seen Fox lose his composure like that. Ponds, sure—he had to put up with her grandmaster after all (she once watched him rant until he was breathless about Obi-Wan’s inability to stay in medbay for longer than a fifteen minute period)—but Fox? Never. Hells, she’s never even seen his face before.

Fox had always been the perfect clone. She had never seen him emote before. Never felt him get anxious, never heard him yell—sometimes (much to her great guilt) she wondered if he was even human, or if he was just an intricately wired droid, programmed to perfectly mimic human behavior.

Fox was the Lieutenant-Commander of the 501st. They spent their whole lives on the front lines, and his was not an easy job. He gave orders that sent men to their deaths—they all had. That was the reality of war. But he gave those orders stoically, coldly, and she never, ever saw him in the mess after missions doing remembrances.

Sometimes, she wondered if Fox was capable of feeling anything at all.

Ahsoka wanted answers. And, frankly, she kind of wanted to laugh at it. It was humorous, in an abstract, surreal kind of way. But Skyguy wasn’t laughing. In fact, he looked totally pissed off. Hell, she could feel his anger in the Force like a fork in a microwave—smoking and sparking viciously.

“Master?” she asked again, this time softer and with more trepidation.

Anakin merely shook his head, his jaw clenched so tightly she almost expected the veins in his head to burst like water balloons. However, she couldn’t be swayed from her pursuit of knowledge, so she changed tactics:

“What does decommissioned mean?”

Her stomach twisted itself up in knots. She wasn’t sure if she actually wanted that answer.

She watched as Anakin grappled with his anger, as if it were something physical he could wrestle with, like a pig, or Kix when he tried to force him into medbay for a check up.

“It’s... euthanasia. They euthanize clones who don’t meet their quality control standards. And that includes being Force Sensitive, I guess,” he spat out, every word leaving a vile taste behind.

Ahsoka’s stomach dropped. “Who? Surely... surely we’re not responsible for- the Jedi would never-“ Did the Council know about this? Do the Jedi endorse this? Was she part of an organization willing to slaughter individuals for simply not being good enough? Her heart was hammering. The room was spinning. No, no, no! She loved her men! She would never do that to them. Not even Fox.

No, no, but he had _said_ the Jedi didn’t do this. She had heard him say that.

Anakin placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “At ease, young one,” he said gently, firmly cementing his anger behind a sealed, concrete wall until it could be dealt with at a later time. He crouched down to her level and she felt a shaky wave of assurance pass through their bond.

“Not the Jedi. The Kaminoans. The Council was only just made aware of the situation last night,” he explained to her, as he had just explained to Fox.

But Ahsoka’s mind still raced. All her friends from the 501st and the 212th and the 104th—Jesse, Kix, Hardcase, Fives, Echo, Droidbait, Cutup, Sinker, Wolffe, Ponds, Longshot, Trapper, Wooly, Neato, Oddball, Click, Hang-up...

Ahsoka’s stomach churned like mud in a swirling vat. The pieces were all falling into place, and the picture they created wasn’t a pretty one. She clenched her fists at her sides and nodded slowly.

“Heh, I guess it makes sense why he hates us so much,” she said, attempting to make a joke, but the words just felt leaden and hollow. Force above, she felt like such an _ass._ What would it be like, living your whole life under the constant, oppressive threat of death as punishment for even the smallest of misdemeanors. No wonder he was always so uptight. Worse than that, she felt _guilt._ Though, perhaps guilt wasn’t quite the word to describe it. It felt like something hot and molten and foul was trying to crawl up the back of her throat.

Anakin’s brows knit together in something akin to sympathy or concern or some kind of combination of the two. “He doesn’t hate us,” he assured, though he didn’t sound terribly convinced.

“Oh yeah?” she asked. _Do you really believe that?_

“No, he doesn’t hate us. He’s probably just… He’s just afraid,” Anakin assured, but _that_ was something far _worse._

“Of what? Of us? He couldn’t possibly be afraid of _us._ We would never hurt him, we would never! Surely he would know that!” There was an urgency in her voice akin to desperation. Ahsoka loved her men. They were his brothers! She did everything with them—she ate with them, she went drinking and dancing with them, the mourned when brothers died, she even snuck in to the barracks to sleep sometimes. And, sure, maybe Fox wasn’t her favorite person in the whole world, but she didn’t want him to be _afraid_ of her. What would he even have to be afraid of? Sure, she was still pretty shiny, but she’d earned her stripes. Surely she’d been around long enough that he’d be able to see-

Oh.

_Oh._

Ahsoka’s eyes went as wide as saucers as everything clicked into place. “Is it just ‘cause we’re Jedi?” she asked softly, as if worried that if she spoke too loudly, the universe itself might here her and will her words into being.

If, for all this time, Lieutenant-Commander Fox believed the Jedi had requested all Force-Sensitive clones be euthanized, he would have every reason to be afraid of them, especially if he himself was-

“I don’t know, Snips,” Anakin said and turned away, the tension returning to his body. This conversation was over. It didn’t matter. Ahsoka had all the information she needed.

Lieutenant-Commander Fox was Force Sensitive. There was no other explanation.

“I’m… I’m going to go meditate,” Ahsoka said, getting the message.

Anakin merely nodded. He didn’t even turn to look at her as she left the room. It didn’t matter. She _had_ to talk to Fox.

She found him, much to her great surprise, sitting in the mess. He had his bucket back on (which was somewhat of a relief, seeing him without it had been utterly jarring) and he was all by himself at a table in the corner, huddled up against a wall and curled around his data pad. He had an untouched plate of food beside him and, admittedly, this also came as somewhat of a surprise to her—truth be told, she’d never seen him actually eat before as he usually took his meals in his room.

She watched as he somewhat reluctantly pulled off his helmet and set it aside. He curled in on himself, just a little, after he did so, as if he felt exposed without it on. It made her heart twist a little, especially as she watched the heavy scar on his face scrunch up as he looked around the crowded room. She didn’t need the Force to feel his anxiety, it was practically rolling off of him live the waves on Kamino.

She wondered if crowds made him nervous. But that was absurd—she could understand his apprehension around the Jedi (and even now the revelation made her feel sick to her stomach) but around the men? Other brother?

_No,_ she thought. _That makes sense too._ If Fox really was Force Sensitive, the gift had surely alienated him from his brothers. He was different. She had learned from the _vode_ that it was bad to be different. It was an offense punishable by death.

Did Fox even have any friends? She’d never seen him have a normal conversation with _anybody,_ except for Ponds. And maybe Thorn and Thire. But among the 501st? Nobody. Not ever.

What a lonely life that must be.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, her curiosity rapidly getting the better of her. Clones being Force Sensitive was an absolutely _wild_ idea. Before hearing about Rex and Cody, she’d never even considered it before.

Usually, it was easy to recognize other Force Sensitives. Surely, if Fox did have the Force, she would’ve noticed, right? Well… then again, the only other Force Sensitives she’d come across were either Jedi or Sith—both trained in the Art—or babies who were too young to know anything about shields. She’d never met somebody who’d actively spent most of their life trying to hide their Sensitivity. Then again… Cody and Rex had certainly felt different. Their presence in the Force hadn’t burned bright and strong like in her Jedi brothers and sisters. Their presence had felt muted, as if layered behind sheets and sheets of ice and shame.

She extended her awareness far beyond herself. She could feel every life Form in the room—Kix and Jesse, Hardcase and Fives and Echo… and there, off in the corner, Fox. And what she found was so startling, it almost snapped her right out of her meditation.

Muted. Far away. Layer and layers of ice and lead and thick, thick curtains. And beyond that: bright, like a burning star.

Like a Jedi.

She nudged up against him in the Force, a wave that lapped at his Presence like a ripple is a glassy pond. It was a test, just a harmless curiosity, but it sparked a panic so fierce, Ahsoka thought Fox’s heart might’ve stopped. His head snapped up and, when she opened her eyes, she found his gaze fixed on her. For a fraction of a second, he looked almost _frightened._ Then, his lips pressed into a firm, hard line, his brows narrows (well… one brow narrowed. The other remained mostly fixed in place by the scar) and he clenched his jaw. He carefully slid his bucket back over his head and his attention returned to his data pad.

Well… he’d already seen here, so there was no point in dwaddling around. She made her way over to table and sat beside him. She tried not to feel offended when he laid an arm down on the tale, separating her from his food as if he through she was going to take it from her.

“Can I help you?” he demanded, his tone neutral and hard. Force above, he was such a hardass. It pissed her off in a way she couldn’t explain. Everything about him pissed her off. Except… suddenly, she could sort of understand why he was such a hardass. And suddenly, she felt guilty for being so upset.

His shields were remarkably strong for his lack of formal training. Still, they couldn’t block out everything, and she couldn’t help but sense his overt fear. Her sensitive montrals picked up the steady, heightened beating of his heart.

He’d been keeping this secret his _whole life._ How awful was that? How painful must it have been to resist the pull of the Light, to suppress the Force that burned inside of all Force Sensitive beings? She could recall, when she was very small and first learning about shielding, trying to keep everything pressed inside of her was extremely uncomfortable.

And here was Fox, who had never touched the Light before. Here was Fox, who’d grown up with the belief that something inside of him was inherently evil. Here was Fox who was afraid Ahsoka would sentence him to death for something he had no choice in.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk,” Ahsoka said, crossing her arms.

Fox visibly stiffened. Ahsoka’s throat ran dry.

“About what?”

“What was all that about?”

“Surely, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, _sir,”_ He spat the word out as if it was something dirt and perhaps it was.

“Don’t pull that banthashit with me, _Lietenant-Commander_ ,” she spat back.

“Are you going to write me up?” His tone was forcibly hollow. He turned his head away from her.

_Are you going to have me killed?_

“Fox…” Ahsoka said softly, and placed a hand on the forearm that was guarding his food. Once again, he stiffened, but didn’t move. He was like a deer in headlights, a mouse trapped before a cat—Ahsoka didn’t like either of those analogies very much. They felt a little too on the nose for her taste. “No, I actually wanted to apologize,” It felt like grinding wheat between two stones—the words came out slow and halting and seemed to scrape between her teeth and the tip of her tongue.

“Sir?” Fox practically sputtered—would’ve sputtered if he wasn’t such a hardass. Still, the incredulity of his tone wasn’t lost on her.

“I know we haven’t exactly gotten along, and I wanted to apologize for always butting heads with you,” she said, surprised by how sheepish she suddenly felt. “I wanted to know if we could start over? I want us to be friends,” She held out a hand to him.

Fox’s helmeted head dropped a hair, then lifted, then dropped once more, his gaze likely flickering between her hand and her face. Then, he scooted his untouched plate a little closer and crossed his arms.

“I believe that’s called fraternizing, _sir,”_ He turned his attention back to his data pad, clearly dismissing the conversation.

Force give her patience. Suddenly, she was pissed off all over again. “Commander, I’m not asking to have sex with you, I just want to be friends,”

His head snapped up so fast, Ahsoka was almost worried that his bucket would go shooting off of his head. And, _oh,_ she could feel his embarrassment burn _bright_ in the Force. “No, that’s not what I’m insinuating at all!” He was very nearly shouting now.

Was it un-Jedi-like to take pleasure in the embarrassment of other people? Probably.

“So, then, let’s be friends,” she said once more, holding her hand out once more, only this time, with slightly more aggression.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Of course, Fox,” Ahsoka chirped as obnoxiously as possible.

_“No.”_

Well that was certainly emphatic. And rude.

“You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Ahsoka muttered under her breath.

“Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be, Commander Tano?” Fox asked, attention once again back to the reports he was filling out.

His callousness stung a little bit, but Ahsoka didn’t let it get her down. In fact, it had the exact opposite effect—it only spurred her on further. She quite liked a challenge.

She leaned back and kicked her feet up onto the table, neatly crossing her ankles. “Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’. This earned her a very dramatic sigh from a certain increasingly-exasperated clone.

“Lucky me,”

She scooted a little closer. “Whatcha reading?” she asked in a sing-song voice as she leaned over to get a better look.

There was that arm again, up and around his food. Force above, she was going in for a quick glance at the _data pad_ , did he really think she was going to steal his food while she was at it?

“Not your concern,” Fox growled, _finally_ moving the data pad out of her sight by pulling it close to his chest.

He still didn’t relinquish his careful hold on his food, though.

Ahsoka frowned. “Why are you looking at _those_?” she asked, pointing. He was going through what appeared to be an old list of KIA reports, carefully transcribing the CT numbers in a separate document and adding the appropriate names. She was, momentarily impressed: she had no problem learning her troops names, but memorizing their CT numbers? That took some kind of dedication, and he seemed to know the corresponding name of ever number on that list. He even knew which numbers didn’t have names and marked a little ‘N/A’ in the empty spot.

“Those reports got filed ages ago,” she protested. “What, double checking them for errors?” Somehow, the tease felt hollow. She recognized some of the names on his little list—Judd, Splotch, Hevy… as old as it was, the loss still ached. Perhaps it would always ache.

She moved even closer, wanting to get a second look. Her heart crumbled. It wasn’t old KIA reports he was going through—the documents were Kaminoan, not GAR. A list of decommissioned brothers.

“As I said before, Commander. None of your concern,”

Ahsoka reached out into the Force, not to poke or prod, just to observe. He looked just the same as he always did: calm, collected, muted, monochrome, inhuman. But if she looked closer, she could see the cracks—spiderwebs of golden, bleeding light that marked every inch of his person. And beyond those cracks? She saw grief, she saw regret, she saw a pain she couldn’t yet comprehend.

“What is it, exactly, that you’re looking for, Commander?” Fox asked and Ahsoka visibly flinched.

She was very quick to withdraw. She had gone too far, and she knew it. It was an invasion of privacy, digging around in somebody’s head like that. And worse, he’d felt her doing it. If he was angry, if he felt violated, it didn’t show.

“Fox, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she sputtered.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, his voice even and monotone.

“Fox…”

Yes. She had. She had found his humanity. Lieutenant-Commander Fox was not immune to feelings. He did not take the lives he lost lightly. He was not less of a person, not some kind of a droid.

“What is it that you want from me?” Fox demanded, a little more aggressively.

She laid a hand on his forearm and he didn’t flinch away. “I told you before. To apologize. For… for everything. We will make this right, Fox,” she said. “And… I meant what I said before. I do want to be your friend,”

“Good for you, sir,”

Dammit all, why did he have to be so difficult? Why? What was the point of it? Was he really so afraid? Or did he just consider himself unworthy? Was it easier for him to believe that he was _actually_ less than human?

Ahsoka grunted in frustration and threw her hands in the air. “You’re impossible!” she exclaimed, rather childishly. “I just want to help! Why won’t you let me help?”

“Because I don’t _want_ your help,” Fox snapped. “I don’t need it. Everything is fine the way that it is,”

“Clearly it’s not!”

“What would you like me to say, Commander? I forgive you? Did you come here hoping I could ease your pain? Will that get you off my case? Then, yes. I forgive you. I relieve you of your burden. And now that I have fulfilled your purpose, just _leave me alone,_ ”

Ahsoka clenched her fists. “Do you really believe that? Do you honestly believe that I would be so selfish as to- that my only purpose in coming here was to ease my own pain?” she demanded.

“Everybody is _selfish,_ Commander. People’s primary motivation is to help themselves, is to prevent their own pain. It is wired into their brains, I do not blame you for you. Selflessness is a false construct—Everything we do, no matter how ‘noble’ or ‘selfless’ or ‘sacrificial’ it may seem, is purely in self-interest. We protect the people that we love because _we_ cannot abide the thought of being without them. We protect the people that we love because we hope to spare _ourselves_ the pain of losing them. It is in our best interest,” Fox spat and Ahsoka felt her blood boil. 

“No, I don’t believe that! I don’t believe that for a second! And I don’t think that you believe it either! Do you honestly believe that when your brothers die-“

“My brothers die because they have no other choice!” Fox shouted, rising to his feet and slamming his hands on the table. “My brothers die because that is the only thing we’re good for! We die because it’s the most moral option we have! Do you know what morality is? It’s a social construct based entirely around the avoidance of shame and guilt—the avoidance of _pain_. We play fair and obey all the rules, not because it is the most ‘selfless’ thing to do, but because if we do not, we will be punished. My brothers die because what is the alternative? Desertion? And which is more painful? Dying in _glory_ or living in _shame and guilt_? Even in death there is selfishness. Because it’s not about what happens to other people, it’s which path is _less painful,_ ”

Fox collapsed back into his seat and Ahsoka was not unaware of the many, many eyes that were fixed on them.

“My brothers die because I tell them to,” he whispered. “Because it’s my _job._ And if I don’t do my job, then I will be punished. And which is more painful?”

The anguish, the self-loathing that poured into the Force from Fox’s cracked walls was almost too much to bear. Suddenly, Ahsoka understood. She could see the man who sat before her—not as a soldier, but as a fugitive. A man who had survived so long by being _perfectly obedient,_ by doing everything that was asked of him. And sometimes, he was asked to choose which of his brothers would live and which would die. He was trapped in the system, enslaved by it, because if he rocked the boat too much, if he made too much noise, they would _look_ at him and they would see what he was hiding, and he would die for it.

And he hated himself for it. 

“Why did you come here?” Ahsoka asked, just loudly enough to be heard by Fox and Fox alone.

“What?” Fox asked in disbelief.

“You never come to the mess. You always eat in your quarters. Why are you here?”

Fox didn’t speak. His bucket was fixed towards her and a part of her longed to take it off so that she could read his expression, understand what he was thinking. But the bucket remained in place and Fox said nothing.

Ahsoka sighed. “The Jedi didn’t order Force-sensitive clones to be decommissioned. You are our _equals,_ even in the Force. Anakin was serious when he said he was going to fix this. And I’m serious too. We don’t want clones to have to die because they have the Force. I don’t want _you_ to die because you have the Force,”

She heard Fox’s breathing hitch. She heard his heart began to hammer in his chest. She knew his secret and that terrified him, but still, he didn’t speak.

She rested a hand on his, just for a moment. “All of that stuff you said about morality and selfishness… You’ve been hiding for a long time, right? Always just out of sight, always having to be the _perfect soldier._ It must be hard. I can’t imagine what it would be like, trapped in a life like that. But I think I get what you’re trying to say,”

She offered him the smallest of smiles and the gentlest of hand squeezes.

“I think what you are trying to say… is that you are _lonely,_ ”

Fox didn’t move, didn’t speak. Ahsoka didn’t see how his bottom lip wavered and his eyes watered, didn’t see the way his expression became tight and pinched. But she felt it when he squeezed her hand back, so softly it was almost imperceptible.

And Fox, in turn, knew what she was trying to say: _Your secret is safe with me._

Ahsoka removed her hand and scooted out from behind the table. “I was being serious, Commander. I _do_ want to be your friend. And I should warn you that I’m very, very good at making friends,” she said with a little wink, and reached forward to pluck some of the food from his plate.

Alright. So maybe she wasn’t above stealing food after all.

Fox didn’t even protest, still to stunned to move or speak. Ahsoka feared she might have broken him. She made a mental note to com Ponds and tell him what happened… just so that he could make sure Fox was okay.

“See ya later, commander!” she called as she left, skipping over to join Jesse, Hardcase, and Click, who appeared to be in the middle of a card game.

And Fox… Fox just sat there for a long, long time, not quite sure what to make of things anymore.


End file.
